A Case Of Two Countries
by DaX0315
Summary: Detective Christopher Carisi-Blackburn is working on a murder case in London with the Intelligence Unit, and during the investigation, he finds a link that connects to a sex trafficking ring in New York that SVU are working on. A link that helps reveal the location of missing teenage girls.
1. Chapter 1 - Undercover

**Heads up! This is an alternative universe of SVU, and I don't own the real life series.**

 **In this world, Carisi was engaged when he was 19 years old to a British women named, Vanessa Blackburn. They had a son together, but called off the engagement. They had a joint custody of their son Christopher.**

 **I won't say anything more till you read the first chapter. A profile of my OC Christopher is posted on my profile, if you want to know more about him.**

 **Again, this is an alternative universe, what I say goes in here.**

 **With that said, enjoy the first chapter!**

* * *

 **Chapter 1 - Undercover**

"You'll need something for that," said the man behind the counter. He was in the process of cleaning Waterford crystal glasses with the Union Jack flag rag, cleaning out the parched alcohol substances that shriveled out during the night; as expected from karaoke night at Baxers'.

A large bar with twinkling light bulbs hanging below the glass ceiling, the design of the room looked like the average bars in any city, but the polished ebony wood said otherwise. The booths by the sealed shut windows were covered in red and yellow chenille striped patterns at the top, while the lower half was made from black patent leather. In between was a mahogany wooden table covered in glass interior. The stools by the bar were covered in red leather. Where now, only one person was occupied with a regular glass of water.

It was little past 10:15, and the large crowd had already died down to only a handful of people.

"I said, you'll need something for that, kid." The bartender repeated looking at his right hand that had dark solid red liquid that was dripping from his right wrist. Taking a better look of the kid, he seemed to be about in his late teens, but that babyface makes it hard to guess. He was wearing a dark grey wool British Ivy Cap, that complimented with the grey long sleeve collar shirt, and black tie he had underneath the dark Melton wool-blend peacoat with six buttons on it. His hair was short and light brown, his skin was pale white, and his eyes were dark brown. The average look most British teenagers would have. But this one seemed _different_ somehow?

"Hey, are you listening to me?" The bartender waved the rag he was holding to his face for him to look at him.

The boy shifted his eyes, and head towards him, no change in his bored facial expression. "My apologies, you were saying?" He spoke in a thick British accent.

"Can I get you something for your hand there, kid? It's been bleeding for a couple of minutes." He pointed with his thick right index finger.

The boy simply looked down at his wrist as he held it towards his face. Still no reaction from him.

"Hmm? I guess I opened the wound." He grabbed for his napkin, dipped it on his drink and placed it on his wrist.

"Hold on, I got a first aid kit here." The bartender reached underneath the counter table and dropped a white box in front of him.

"Thanks." The boy replied opening the box. His eyes take a quick glance at the bartender, seeing the older man has his back turned, the boy, spots a blue curvy dragon tattoo, with the initials J.X.T at the back of his neck. The boy then takes out three capsules out from the inside of his coat, filling them with three different pills from the small capsules labeled, _ALEVE, TYLENOL, and Advil_. He then quickly places everything back where he found them, and takes out a bandage tape.

"You know how you got that cut, kid?" The bartender turned around cleaning more cups.

"Work." He replied tying the white bandage strip around his wrist.

"What kind of work?"

"Just work." He finishes treating his wound and takes out his wallet to place fifty pounds on the counter. He puts on his black leather gloves as he gets up from his seat.

"Hey, that water was only a pound kid."

"Consider it a tip." He begins to walk away towards the exit, with one hand on the handle, he takes one look back at the bartender "And by the way, my name's not 'kid', it's Christopher. Just Christopher."

"Christopher? Why do I think that name might be important?" He tilts his head forward towards the ceiling as he kept repeating his name softly, "Christopher? That kid's weird, but there's something off about him, but I can't think what." He then closed his eyelids. "Hmm, I think there's a famous person in London who has that name?" He eventually gives up trying and goes back to work.

Outside the bar, the bright light reflecting off the waxing gibbous moon was not strong enough to overcome the intensive lights the city of London has to offer. People dressed nice and cozy from top to bottom for the early winter weather. The snow was fluttering down softly, aided by the soft wind coming from the northeast area where River Thames was.

Christopher got out of his black Lincoln and to make his way to Westminster Bridge. He started to think back to his conversation earlier this morning.

 _It was 9:39AM at the 18_ _th_ _precinct, the location of the Westminster's Intelligence unit. An elite squad composed of eight highly skilled detectives, trained in both mind and field._

 _The unit's squad room was a large modern business room. The walls were painted white, with the London PD signs, photographs of several past detectives and officers, and badges of the ones who lost their lives in the line of duty._

 _Christopher was sitting at his large mahogany desk looking through the recent case files of the deaths of eighteen men and women. The ages ranging from 23 to 45, and all being found with the same M.O. He held up a photograph of one of the victims._

 _High blood alcohol, frostbite ranging from their fingertips to their toes, bloodshot eyes, their pupils dilated, and in the color of white._ _  
_

 _He held his left knuckles towards his mouth as he stared deeply into the photograph._ _  
_

 _"How many days as it already been?" A deep male voice interrupted Christopher's mind_ _.  
_

 _He looked up and saw a tall man standing at 6'5, wearing a black notch suit, a light blue-collar shirt, and a black and blue striped tie. He was bald, had pale white skin, had a couple of wrinkles and worry lines on his face, and had black-grey hair stubbles along his jaw line.  
_

" _Has it been four days? Five?" The male placed his hands in his coat pocket._

" _Six, Captain." Christopher placed the photograph down, and stood up straight. "At the moment, our only lead is that each of these victims all purchased a drink at least 24 hours before their death. Given the area each victim was found in, the number of bars located here and there, is over 20, including small ones."_

" _Have you and your partner been able to narrow it down?"_

" _Bloodworth and I are here going over each of the victim's records while the rest of the squad are out asking people if they've seen any of the victims recently in the area. Fowler and Atwood are down on 42_ _nd_ _street, Chamberlain and Crawford with 35_ _th_ _street, and Duke and Forrest are checking all street cams within the 80-meter radius."_

" _I think we finally have a lead with the bar." A female voice traveled across the room._

 _Christopher turned to face his partner, Charlotte Bloodworth. She had long blonde hair, blue eyes, pale white skin, and was dressed in a black blouse, black pants, and ankle boots. She had an elegant body figure, standing tall at 5'8, and an attractive luring face that most men would fall for._

" _What did you find out, Bloodworth?" Christopher stood up from his seat as he approached her._

 _Charlotte motioned with her hands to the white board that was covered with every single clue, and information about the case. Photographs of the victims, places they were found in, etc._

" _The latest victim, Sarah Foss, was found with this receipt in her pocket."_

 _Her partner looked closely at the receipt. "It's from Ford's Past. That's an antic shop down on Sawyer Lane. There's only on bar on that street. Baxers'." He scoffed at himself. "Of course, that's 10 miles down where she was found. It also isn't that far away from the other victims as well."_

" _Alright then." They both turned around to face their captain._

" _You two, find out who runs that bar, and everything you can regarding that street. All police reports, any rumors, someone down there must know something."_

" _Will do sir." Charlotte nodded._

 _Two hours has passed by, when Charlotte appeared by her partner's desk, handing him a folder._

" _The owner of Baxers' is a man named William Evans, he was arrested back in 2008 for drug dealing. He was released three years later and was on patrol for two years. He managed to open a bar that seem high class to the customers. And according to customers, they remembered seeing each of these victims attending his bar the night getting rat arsed. And each of them were given these drug medicines before they left the night." She placed three pictures of the brand names on his desk._

" _Evans huh?" Christopher looked at Williams' photographs. His hazel colored pupils widen, and his facial appearance showed signs of disturbance. Williams Evans had short black hair, brown eyes, and heavy in size…but that wasn't the reason for the young detective's reaction._

" _That tattoo and initials." He said softly._

" _Have you seen it before? Does it have meaning?" The blonde looked intrigued._

 _Christopher appeared to be in deep thought before opening his mouth. "This tattoo, I've seen this before, in an email my father sent me a few days before these incidents started to happen. A sex trafficking ring of missing teenage girls being transported from New York to the UK. And there's a man who has this same tattoo, on his left bicep. They weren't able to see his face, but they do know he's a part of this ring. The girls that were rescued don't know his name either. They described him to be dirty blonde-haired, brown eyed, around 6 feet tall, and has this tattoo." He lowered the photograph._

" _Are you trying to say that this case, is somehow related to the case your father is currently investigating?"_

" _Perhaps." He slowly turned his head to face her with an intellectual look. "But, this case might be bigger than we previously thought it was from the start."_

" _Will you be heading back to your homeland then?"_

 _He shook his head. "Our main object here is to arrest the person responsible for these murders. And I took an oath to protect and serve my country, in both places. I won't leave till I've finish what I started."_

 _Charlotte closed her eyes snickered, "I've should have known. After all, you are your parent's child. A Carisi, and Blackburn in one." She looked back up at him. "As I recalled, you're good at faking injuries, more specifically, blood."_

" _Yeah, why?" He raised an eyebrow._

" _Let's first talk to our commanding officer before going anywhere further."_

Back in the present time, a dark long haired brunette woman, dressed in a grey waistcoat long sleeve tweed winter coat, black pants tucked within her heeled black boots, was standing underneath a lamp post on the Westminster Bridge. A perfect view of Big Ben and the Westminster Pier.

She turned her face towards the west direction on her left to avoid the cold breeze. At the corner of her eye, she saw a familiar person walking towards her.

"I was beginning to wonder when you would show up, detective." Not taking her eyes off the urban sight before her.

"My apologies," Christopher leaned his back against the lamp post with arms crossed in front of his chest. "I had to make sure I had his full attention and didn't see I faked the injury." He reached into his coat for plastic bag marked, 'EVIDENCE'. Inside were the three capsules.

"Just like my partner said, the bartender, William Evans, is part of the group that's smuggling illegal Class A drugs to the UK in trade for the sex trafficking ring connecting to the one in New York City. I just came back from the lab, and reports shows the same compound ingredients that were used to kill those eighteen victims that came from that bar. He hid it inside medicine pills that were used to treat headaches, pain medication, and dehydration. My guess is those people, were nothing, but mere test subjects. I only managed to take a sample portion of what was in the first aid kit without him knowing." He handed her the bag.

The woman looked at the pills contained in the bag, nodded then tucked it in her coat pocket. "Looks like Bloodworth was right to choose you for this assignment, detective. You always have a way to sneak things in and out. As expected from someone who happens to the son of two detectives from two countries. More specially, a _Blackburn_." She leered.

"Ah yes, the only child of a broken engagement between an American detective and a British detective, or should I say, Lieutenant _now_." He raised an eyebrow at her. "Spent his early teenager years as a detective, in two cities that are 3,459 miles away from each other." A small white cloud came out of his mouth, and his nose and cheeks started to a lighter shade of pink. "In all honesty, why is it that I'm stuck with all the hard work within the departments of two different countries?" He turned to face her.

"As I recalled, it's because you wanted to be someone who can be Albert Einstein, James Bond, and Sherlock Holmes all at once back when you were a child I believe."

"Best five years of my life is all I can say, and here I am, at 16." Christopher looked up at the night winter sky. "Perhaps in the two years when I finally become a man, father can finally let me drive his Mustang, and you can let me drive your Ferrari."

She chuckled as she turned to face him. "But nonetheless, your father and I are proud of you."

He turned to his side and gave her a broad grin then nodded, "Thanks, mother." He leaned forward and looked at his Omega watch, _'12:13 AM'_.

"I believe the party starts at 12:30 down at Camberwell. I believe about 20,000 grams of Class A drugs are stored down there, along with only a handful of criminals who have purchased a large collection of weapons that our military personal are experienced with. The plan is to transport those items to Bexley. I've already sent word to my squad and the department to head down there along with the SWAT team. As well to Bexley as we speak."

"Then why aren't you joining in then?" She teased.

"I thought it would be best for me to see you one last time before I leave for New York tomorrow to be with father now, for the next six months. Apparently, the states are in need of my assistants with this ring, that connects both the American and British natives."

"As expected from you, I should have known." She moved from her spot to hug her son, savoring the last few squeezes he gave her. She placed her chin on his shoulder, realizing how much he grew since he came back to London, back in mid-June, six months ago.

"Take care of yourself, love." She held her son's face to take one last good look of him in person before kissing his forehead. "You, and your family over there."

"I will, mother. I'll see you later." He gave her one last smile before walking away, the snow starting to get heavier.

Through the distance, a dark figure was watching the entire scene between thick white trees. He was wearing a heavy grey winter coat, a black line watch cap, blue jeans, and brown hiking boots. He held a Canon DLSR camera taking a few more shots.

"Now I remember why that name was important. He's that famous kid detective who was born into the Blackburn family. The wealthiest and most power family in all of England! Detective Christopher Carisi-Blackburn. If I remember correctly, he's that child prodigy kid with the IQ over 200. He works for the fuzz here, and in New York. And he's related to…." He gulped. "Bloody hell! This is bad. I better warn the others." The dark figure himself disappeared into the snow, the only visible thing that can be seen from him, was that blue curvy dragon tattoo with the initials J.X.T at the back of his neck.

Unknowingly to him, someone was watching him as well. That person pulled out her walkie, "Evans took the bait just like you said, Christopher. Time for phase 3."

" _I told you he would have come looking for me once he found out who I was. There's only one person in this world whose leaves you with a mysterious vide, and that guy, is the world's youngest detective in history."_ Christopher talked through the small mic inside his coat collar.

"Becoming cocky, now are we? You are at that age, kid."

" _And you people here wonder why I prefer working in NYPD with my father and step mother. At least over there, I'm treated with more respect."_ He walked towards his car. _"Now, like how we planned. I'll leave phase 3 to you, Bloodworth."_ He smirked opening the back door of his car. _"Try and go easy on them, I don't like doing paper work."_ He took off his hat and jacket, in favor of putting on his London PD bullet proof vest, and a large black coat with the words, _'London PD Intelligence Unit'_ printed on the back.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Keep it clean."

" _And that's why we're partners."_ Christopher got into the driver seat and took off.

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 **How you guys enjoyed the first chapter! Review and tell me what you think about the story. I know, everyone has their opinions, whether they like it or hate or have problems with my writing. I know, there are a couple a grammar mistakes throughout the story here and there. But what's more important is to enjoy reading a good story!**


	2. Chapter 2 - The Warehouse

**Chapter 2 - The Warehouse**

The snow then started to lighten up, making it easier to drive on the icy roads at this time of the night. It didn't take long for Christopher to arrive in Camberwell. He made a right turn on a crossroad path and saw large two-story neutral grey warehouse far ahead. The building had a couple of broken historic steel windows, the paint color was scraping off, revealing the darken first coat underneath, and there was smoke coming out from the rooftop. In front of the building were two teal garage doors.

Christopher looked at his notepad, _'2179 Poly Rose St',_ then back up to see three large vehicles parked in front of the building.

" _About time you showed up, Blackburn. You're nine minutes late."_ Said a male voice coming Christopher's walkie talkie.

"Isn't best to catch criminals while they're in the act sometimes, making it easier while they're on trial, Crawford?" He held the device to his mouth as he drove closer to the vehicles.

He could hear Crawford groan on the other end of the line _. "Forrest just called stating her, Duke, Chamberlain, and Bloodworth managed to arrest Evans, and his associations back in Westminster and Bexley. They retrieved over 500,000 Class A, B, and C drugs in Bexley. The only area that's left, is here."_

Christopher stepped out of his car, and looked up to see four people coming out of one of the vehicles. Three of them were male, and one of was female. All wearing the same outfit Christopher is wearing.

In the large black vehicle parked next to them, the back doors opened revealing twenty men wearing full body suits, shielded helmets, bullet proof shields, and large weapons. As expected from the SWAT team.

"Fashionably late again? I think Fowler coming to work late is rubbing off on you." Said the tall, pale skinned, blue eyed, slender, light brown-haired man.

The short blonde-haired green-eyed woman standing next to him slapped the back of his head.

"Ow!" The man held the back of his head. "What was that for, Fowler! It's the truth!"

"We're not here to talk about me, Crawford."

"Guys." Christopher held his hands up, coming in between them. "Okay look, I know it's late, and it's freezing out here, and we all want to go someplace warm; and we can do that, but once this case all over."

"Blackburn's right." Fowler nodded.

"Okay." Crawford took out his pistol from his waist. "Infrared scanner shows there are eight males inside with the remaining Class A drugs that were supposed to be transfer to Bexley. At the moment, the scanner shows that they're still loading it in the van."

"And what are they armed with, Atwood?" The teen detective turned to face the dark haired brunette man.

"SA80a2s, Glock 17 pistols, L128A1 combat shotgun, Minimi light machine gun, L82A1 – anti-material rifle, and ILAW anti-tank rocket." He replied.

"I see they're not taking any chances with us then." Christopher looked at the building.

"So, what's the plan?" Atwood asked.

"Each of us will be accompanied with a group of five, the SWAT team will go in first. Atwood, you take east entrance. Fowler, the west. Crawford, cover the back. I'll take the care of the front entrance. No doubt they'll be trying to escape using the trucks, so Crawford will make the first move inside from the back." He motioned with his hands. "Once inside, approach with caution, these criminals are armed with weapons that our military forces use. Do not take them lightly."

"Understood." Crawford nodded.

"Alright, let's move out!" Christopher ordered taking out his gun.

Each detective headed towards their designated area with the SWAT team. Christopher carefully approached to the front of the building, he carefully hid himself with his back to the cemented wall by the nearest window. He leaned against the left side of his head against the wall as he took a glimpse inside. There was some light inside the building, all being powered by large pendant lights across the ceiling. A few of them were flickering.

"Wait for it…" Christopher said softly raising his right hand up.

Three minutes later, they heard a loud metal sound coming from inside.

" _London PD! Freeze!"_ Crawford's voice echoed across the building. Then there were what seemed to be loud rapid footsteps against the concrete flooring were coming closer to their direction.

"Now!" Christopher shouted as the SWAT team used a black long medium length battering ram to knock down the metal door. Each of them quickly entered the building.

"Freeze!" "Stop right there! The SWAT team shouted.

Christopher pointed his gun in front of him as he eyes quickly scan the area. Various members of the SWAT team pointing their weapons and chasing few of the criminals. His fellow detectives followed suit.

Three loud gun shots noise was fired, aiming at few of the members of the SWAT team.

Christopher stopped where he was and gasped, constantly turning his head around to where the source was. He looked up to see a dirty blonde-haired man wearing a black leather jacket, a navy-blue shirt underneath, black jeans, and black boots. He had a SA80a2 strapped around him.

Christopher saw at the corner of his right eye, Crawford was nearby and was pointing his gun at one of the dealers while SWAT was handcuffing him to the ground.

"Crawford, the second floor!" He motioned with his head in the direction.

Crawford whipped his head to the right and saw the shooter.

"Got it!" He took off running up the stairs.

The shooter took notice of the detective and aimed his weapon at him. Crawford fired his gun before the shooter could. The bullet struck his left shoulder. The shooter groaned in pain as he held onto the wound.

"Damn it!" He cursed. He looked back up to see Crawford was about 9 meters away from him.

The shooter struggled trying to hold the rifle properly, the pain in his left shoulder had an effect when he fired the weapon. Crawford dodged the bullet.

"Son of a bitch!" The shooter moaned placing his hand back on his wound. He turned around, trying to make a run for it, but was stopped in his tracks when someone jumped right in front of him.

It was Christopher.

The young detective, held his gun in front, aiming at the shooter.

The shooter stared in shock and took a step back. He narrowed his eyebrows as he turned to the right to see the railings. The height from the second floor to the bottom was about 45 meters tall. There was nothing below for him to step on either.

"How the hell did he even do that?" He looked back at the detective.

Christopher had a serious look on his face. "Drop your weapon, and get on your knees now!" He took a step closer.

The shooter took a good look of his face, it was first confusion, then it became discernment.

"Wait, you're…"

"He said get on your knees now!" Crawford stood right behind him, with his gun pointed at the shooter's head.

The shooter slowly lowered his body down as Crawford took the rifle from him and started to cuff him.

"You're under arrest for smuggling illegal class drugs into the country." Crawford started to read his rights.

"I'll leave this to you. Good work." Christopher nodded as he placed his left hand on the railing and jumped off it, he did a 360-degree flip in the air, and landed on his feet in a kneeling position on the ground.

He stood up and saw the rest of his team had handled the rest of the dealers and were now in their custody.

"Blackburn." Christopher turned his head to see Atwood approaching him.

"What happened with the shooter?" He asked.

"Crawford has him in custody, you guys?" He placed his gun back into its holster.

"SWAT arrested the rest of the dealers, and we recovered the remaining Class A drugs in the van." They started to walk.

"Are all of it in there?" He placed his hands behind his back.

"No, they were about half way when we arrived on the scene. Fowler is with the rest over there." Atwood pointed with his thumb in the left direction. "CSU are on their way right now."

"Alright then, good work." Christopher make a turn and approached Fowler. He picked the bag that contain the drugs. He studied the material inside it and he patted the bag against his left hand. "Let's wrap things up here and take them back to the precinct and get a confession out of them."


	3. Chapter 3 - The Connection

**Chapter 3 - The Connection**

It was now 1:27 AM and the whole squad was back together at the 18th precinct discussing what they learned from each interrogation. They were all sitting at the grey 46x60 in' rectangle shape squad table.

"According to Evans, he was doing business with a man named, Jared Zimmerman. A drug dealer who's been on FBI's radar for a quite some time now. He's known for administering counterfeit medical drugs. Which would explain why each victim took medication at Evans' bar, not knowing it was fake." Said Atwood.

"Evans and the other men claimed that they received 40,000 pounds for each shipment they made when transporting it from the states for the past month." Said Charlotte.

"Where is Zimmerman now?" Crawford asked.

"We haven't been able to locate him yet. He's good at hiding." Said a dark haired Asian woman wearing a yellow blouse and black pants.

"We now have all the illegal class drugs in our custody, so mostly hopefully, there won't be another victim in this case." Said Fowler.

"I see, good work everyone. That was a tough case." Their captain nodded as he looked at his squad. "I'll call the prosecutor and let him now we have the murder responsible. We can now finally put this case to an end." He turned his head to see his youngest detective texting on his phone.

"Are you listening detective Carisi-Blackburn?" The captain referred to him by his full last name.

"Huh?" Christopher looked up. "Yes, I'm listening captain. I was just texting my step mother. She's awake now. I was just informing her that I'll be heading back to New York in a couple of hours." He tucked his phone at the back of his pants.

"Just when we finish a case, we lose our ace detective as a cost of it." Said a short dark haired brunette man, wearing a brown suit, leaning back against his chair.

"My apologies, Duke, but as much as you guys need me here, my squad in America, needs me too." He stood up.

"Are you leaving now, Christopher?" Charlotte got out of her seat as well.

"It's a long flight to the states, my family's private jet only manages to minimize the departure to three hours. So, it's best I take my leave now." His phone vibrated, he picked it up.

"Blackburn." He said picking up with his jacket with his free hand. "Yes, I'm currently in London as we speak. I'm heading back to New York right now." He took a few steps listening to the other person on the line, before stopping. "What? What did you just say?" His tone of voice changed into confusion, causing the attention of the others.

"His DNA is a match?" Christopher placed his left hand on his waist as he carefully listened to the person talk. "To how many?" He nodded. "I see. I understand, so it was him." He nodded again. "Did you already inform my squad in the states?" The person talked. "I see, so the rest of the case is up to me and my squad here in the UK to handle." He nodded. "We'll take it from there. Thanks." He hung up.

"What happened?" Charlotte asked as she approached her partner.

"Lab results came back. Remember when I told you this case was related to the one my squad in America are currently working on?"

Charlotte nodded.

"They sent me all the files they had on the trafficking ring, and it turns out the shooter at the warehouse, Louie Robinson, is part of the ring. And his DNA matches the rapes of several girls that were rescued from the ring."

"And they're transporting girls from New York to the UK." She replied. "In other words,"

"Robinson knows the location where all the girls who've been kidnapped are being held in both countries." Christopher finished her sentence.

The two of them looked back at their squad who were looking at each other.

"Pick him up from the hospital and bring his ass here." Their captain had a grim look on his face.

Forty-five minutes has passed by, and Robinson was sitting along in the white bricked interrogation room. He was wearing a sleeveless navy-blue shirt, revealing some of the bandages on his shoulder. But what caught everyone's attention was what was on his left bicep. It was a blue curvy dragon tattoo, with the initials J.X.T.

Robinson was looking at himself through the one-way glass mirror. One the other side, was the squad.

"He has the same tattoo Evans does, and his description matches what the girls said about their rapist who had that tattoo." Christopher had his arms crossed on his chest. "It was him in that photograph father sent me."

"Hey Captain, Duke and I can handle this. We'll get him to talk." Said Crawford.

"No Crawford. This is a case that connects two countries together. This is Blackburn's case. We are only here to assist him when need be." Their captain looked at the teenager.

"Then, Christopher and I will take it from here then." Said Charlotte.

"No." Christopher spoke. "I'll take this alone."

"Christopher." Charlotte turned to her partner.

"I'm the only one here who knows everything about this case. And every detail that has been spoke about it. And I have a better chance of getting him into telling me everything," He turned to face her. "because after all, I am also, a Carisi _._ "

Charlotte closed to her eyes and sighed in defeat. "Why do you always have to win at conversations." She playfully pushed his shoulder.

"It's gift from my father." He chuckled before opening the door into the interrogation room.

Robinson sat up straight once he saw Christopher enter the room with a notepad and folder in his hand.

"You're that kid from the warehouse."

"Yeah that was me." He took a seat across from him. "What about it? Surprise to learn that a 16-year-old kid works for the fuzz?"

"I heard about you, but never thought I would ever get the chance to meet the great Christopher Theodore Carisi-Blackburn." He placed his arms on the table, and a smug look started to form.

"You know my full name? I mostly leave my middle name out of it when introducing myself." He leaned back a little to get comfortable. "You've done research on me?"

"Maybe a little. I remember reading that the governor of London's daughter, Vanessa Blackburn, was engaged and had a child with a famous detective in America. Detective Dominick Carisi Jr. was his name, and the two of them were about 19-years-old I believe. Sadly, the engagement was called off due to differences, but since the two loved their beloved child so dearly, they couldn't bear the thought of him growing up without having both of his parents in his life. So, they decided to have a joint custody of the child. It only makes sense, that their only child would follow in their footsteps, considering he has both of their blood running through his veins. So much that he would surpass them by finishing his primal education at the age of 10. Then attend five different universities across the United States till he was 15. The academy was only a short one-year learning experience for you, considering you were ranked top in both countries."

"Perhaps you've done a little more than just a quick little study of my background. Honesty, I'm not sure how I should feel. Grateful that someone has taken an interest regarding my history, or be petrified that you know that much about me." Christopher smirked.

"You were a very interesting topic to me, and I'm sure I'm not the only one who shares the same thoughts." Robinson rubbed his chin.

"I can assure you, that you are correct with _that_ statement _._ " Christopher crossed his arms on the table. "But, we're not here to talk about me, Robinson. I'm more interested in your background rather than my own in fact."

"Really? I'm a topic that _the_ Christopher Carisi-Blackburn finds interesting. I'm quite flattered." He leaned his right arm behind his chair.

"You should be. In fact, I have some good news for you." Christopher nodded opening the folder.

"What good news?" Robinson raised an eyebrow.

"Congratulations, you're a father…. of sixteen babies in the United States." His expression changed into a grim look as he showed him the pictures of the teenage girls that were rescued.

Robinson had a blank look on his face as Christopher was placing photographs of the girls in front of him.

Christopher placed his index finger on the first photo on the top left-hand corner. "This girl, is 14-years-old, and is four months pregnant." He moved on to the next photo. "This one here, is 16-years-old, and is seven months pregnant." He moved on to the bottom right. "This girl, is 13-years-old, and is three months pregnant." He pulled his hand back. "Your description matches what each of these girls said, right up to that tattoo you wear on your left bicep there." He nodded his head in the direction. "And your DNA, matches each of their rapes, as well as the paternity tests for all of these girls. We also have your records that shows when and where you left and arrived both here and in New York. The timeline matches to all these rapes."

"So, what? I had sex with these girls."

"It's not sex if they didn't want it. That's rape. And even if they consented, they're all underage and that's statutory rape."

"But you just said these took place in America. You can't send me back there!" He smirked and crossed his arms.

"Actually, I can."

Robinson's smirk disappeared.

"One, you are technically not a citizen of this country. You are an American citizen. We can send you back there. Two, I am, after all, an international cop if you've forgotten. And I have jurisdiction, everywhere. Especially, in my home state in America. Don't think you can get out of this easily."

Robinson glared at him.

"Looking at these files, including the number of girls you've knocked up, you are here by charged with the rapes of 58 girls in New York City, that matches your DNA." He placed a piece of paper with a long list of names on it.

Robinson looked down at the paper, scanning the names of several girls. He looked back up.

"What do you what from me, kid?"

"You're going to spend, who knows how long in prison, but judging on what your next answer, I might put in a nice word for you."

"Like what?"

"How about, you don't go down on this alone. Save yourself, unless…"

"Unless what?"

"Unless you want William Evans to be sentence to a death penalty."

"Wait, what?" Robinson widen his eyes.

"I'm just telling you what the prosecutor told me earlier today. The city of London wishes to terminate the person responsible for all the murders, and since William Evans was the one who gave them the drugs, and Zimmerman is nowhere to be found, all their deaths, are on Evans."

"But William has nothing to do with the trafficking ring! Do you only think that because we have the same tattoo! He's my half-brother!" He slammed his hands against the metal table. He then moved his arm, showing him the tattoo. "These initials are our mother's. J.X.T stands for, Johanna Xara Thames. We have a dragon here because she was always so strong, and blue was her favorite color. She died when we were kids. He's all I have left!"

"Then, you two should have thought of her then." Christopher placed both of his hands on the table as he stood up, gathering up everything in the folder. "We already have your DNA. I just brought you here to let you know that." He took five steps till Robinson called him.

"Wait! Don't go! I don't want you to kill my brother!"

Christopher didn't turn around. "Sorry, buddy. It's not up to me. True, your brother didn't make the drugs, but he did distribute them. And normally, the prosecutor would sentence them to a regular jail time, but, we don't know where Zimmerman is. And plus, I also must work on this trafficking ring and find out where girls are, and you're most likely not going to tell me where you're hiding the them."

"If I tell you everything about the ring and Zimmerman, then the prosecutor won't kill my brother?"

Christopher concealed the smirk from hearing the terrifying tone of voice from Robinson. He didn't know he was being tricked.

"If you're telling me the truth that is."

"I will! I even know where Zimmerman is hiding! You guys can arrest him and charge him with all those dead people and let my brother go!"

Christopher finally turned around. "Are you telling me the truth Robinson. If you're lying, your brother's life is on you."

"I am telling you the truth. Zimmerman has been hiding where I've been hiding the rest of the girls here in England. He's also a part of this ring, and he rapes the girls too."

Christopher walked back to the table, standing by his side, he places a notepad and pen in front of Robinson.

"Write it all down. Everything about the ring, the drugs and Zimmerman. But more importantly," He took a step closer to Robinson. "tell me where the bloody hell are you hiding all of them? Starting with here, and who they're with." He had a profound look on his face.

"They're in the northern part of England. They're all in Carlisle." Robinson spoke softly.

Christopher turned and looked at the one-way mirror, on the other side his squad was watching.

"He didn't even put up much of a fight against the kid!" Duke exclaimed.

"And this is why, he's ranked higher than the seven of us here." Crawford sighed as he leaned his head back.

"I expected nothing less from him. Like I said, he always has to win at conversations. He's just like his father." Said Charlotte.

Back inside the interrogation room.

"Where in Carlisle?" Christopher narrowed his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4 - Case Closed

**Chapter 4 - Case Closed**

The squad, along with SWAT and the FBI, entered inside an abandon hospital basement.

"London PD!" Duke shouted as he used the battering ram to knock down the metal door.

Christopher and Fowler, along with SWAT team and FBI agent entered the room. The room was large, but also looked very old. The yellow wall paint of the entire room was all decaying and chipping away. It had dark black spots, that looked a lot like dried blood. The room looked like it was being held up by four thick circular poles. The only thing lighting up the room was three small incandescent light bulbs, one of them was flickering.

Inside the room were seven teenage girls laying on top of disgusting torn up mattresses. All their clothing was filthy, ripped, and their skin were all bruised up. Each of them had chains around one of their ankles. On the mattress in the far corner was a large heavy male person with long hair, wearing dark clothing, and spooning a girl in tears as he slept.

"Hey get up!" Duke shouted harshly as he ran to the corner to pull the man off the girl and slam him against the wall.

"Son of a- who the bloody damn hell are you!" The man curse after being woken from his sleep to see he was face planted against the wall.

"You're under arrest for rape and kidnap!"

Fowler placed her gun to her waist as she slower approached and lowered her body to the girl crying. She held her hands up.

"It's okay now. We're the police." She said softly, but the girl backed away from her a little. "You're safe now. It's okay, you're safe." She leaned closer to slightly touch her shoulder. She winced at the touch, but didn't move away from her.

Christopher looked over the other side of the room to see FBI and SWAT comforting the girls and cutting them out of their chains.

"I'll leave things here to you two." He gave them a quick nod before exiting in the room to be greeted by his partner.

"How many were in here?" Charlotte asked.

"Seven girls, and one pimp. You?"

"Fifteen girls, and seven pimps. So far twenty-two girls and eight bastards."

"Detectives!" Christopher and Charlotte both turned their heads to see an FBI agent coming towards them.

"We've searched the entire building, no signs of Zimmerman."

"Do you think he left before we got here?" Said Charlotte, but was interrupted by a girl screaming from the distance.

"If not, he is now." Christopher took a glance at her before sprinting towards the source of the scream.

He entered a flickering hallway, at the end was a locked door. He grunted before kicking the door open. Inside was a dark and empty room nothing inside. He pulled out his small black flashlight, revealing the room wasn't entirely empty.

An older middle-aged man, with short black hair that reached to the back of his neck, a goatee and moustache, and had pale white skin. He was wearing a brown canvas jacket, a black t-shirt, blue jeans, and heavy black boots. He was carrying a blonde-haired girl over his right shoulder and was trying to open a locked door.

It was Zimmerman.

"Stop!" Christopher shouted holding his gun out, along with his partner and the FBI and SWAT as they all entered the room.

"Hold it right there, Zimmerman!" Charlotte shouted.

Zimmerman turned around and pulled out his gun.

"Make one move and the girl dies." He pulled the girl down from his shoulder, holding her half nelson, and putting the gun to her head.

Christopher and the others held their breaths, trying to think of a strategy to save the girl's life.

"Put, the gun, down." Charlotte spoke out each word carefully.

Zimmerman wasn't backing down.

"If you kill her, we kill you." Christopher narrowed his eyes. "Is her life really worth yours?" He tried to sympathize with him.

Zimmerman glared at him for a couple of seconds before he threw the girl to the ground and sprinting out the door.

"Watch her, I'll go!" Christopher said to his partner quickly before he ran off after him.

It was now 3:21 AM, and the wind's increasing strength was more powerful in northern England, coming from the southwest direction. It aided the snow to become more violent. Making it harder for a person to keep their eyes open.

That didn't stop Christopher from pursuing the criminal. He wasn't far from him. Zimmerman ran off into the woods, leaving large deep imprints of his boots in the snow.

"Stop! Police!" He shouted running without any difficulties. His long legs and quick feet was his advantage.

Zimmerman turn to fire his gun, but slipped into the pile of snow during the process. Losing his weapon. The young detective took advantage of this to jump on top of it. They struggled and wrestled in each other's grips.

"Damn it!" Zimmerman struggled trying to reach for his gun, but was kicked away from him by Christopher. "Why you little." Zimmerman managed to free his right hand and punched him in the left eye.

"Ah!" Christopher cried in pain at the sudden contact, loosening his grip on Zimmerman.

"Back off you little git!" He shoved the teen to the snow.

Right when Zimmerman was about to pick up his gun, Christopher used his legs to knock him back to the ground.

"Not so fast, Zimmerman!" He quickly crawled over to pin him to the snow.

"Let go!" Zimmerman tolerated.

"Stop resisting!" Christopher grunted grabbing a hold of both of his wrists and cuffing them together.

A bright light and loud footsteps was getting closer towards them.

"Blackburn!" Said Crawford.

"Detective Blackburn!" Said an FBI agent.

"We're good here. I got him." Christopher gasped from the combine pain in his left eye and his body was covered in snow.

"We'll take it from here, detective." The FBI agent motioned two of his fingers for two agents to come forward and take Zimmerman with them.

Crawford walked past the FBI agent and place a hand on Christopher's right shoulder. "Blackburn, are you okay?"

Christopher had his left hand cover his left eye. "I'm fine, sir." He winced, bringing up his other hand to add more pressure to the injury.

"Are you sure, Christopher?" Crawford came forward.

"I'm fine, David. This is nothing compare to what I've been through back then. You of all people should know that." He waved it off like it was nothing with his right hand.

"Yeah, I _know._ " Crawford nodded as he stared at him. He clicked his tongue, "I know I'm not a licensed paramedic like you, but I think you should add some ice on that. The last thing I need is to get in trouble with Fowler and Forrest for letting you get hurt, again." He wiped off the snow on the teenager's head and shoulders.

"I will Crawford, I will." Christopher chuckled at the memory of what happened prior.


	5. Chapter 5 - His Return

**Chapter 5 - His Return**

Three days later, it was December 13th, and Christopher was in his family's private jet. He looked at his Omega watch to see it was _8:24 PM_. He had to delay his return back to the United States, due to the girls' recovery, and decided to take them with him once they were eligible to leave the country.

"Master Christopher." The female flight attendant appeared on his left side.

"Yes, Sarah." He looked up.

"We will be arriving shortly in Queens, in about ten minutes."

"Thank you, have you address this to the passengers that are below us." He referred to the girls seated on the first floor underneath them.

"Yes, Eleanor is telling this right now as we speak."

"Very well then." He took a sip of his beverage.

"Would you like some ice for your eye, sir?" She looked at the dark large red-purple circle that formed on Christopher's left eye.

"It's fine, Sarah. It'll take a day or two for the swelling to go down. Carry on with your duties." He waved her off.

"As you wish, sir." She nodded her head slightly before walking away.

It didn't take long, for the jet to land in, Jet's Take Off's land strip. Once they landed, Christopher got out of his seat, picking up his black leather messenger bag, and headed below deck. He took the stairs, and opened the door, revealing several girls talking among themselves, till they realized Christopher was there.

"Detective!" The blonde-haired girl who was held hostage, stood up from her seat in the front row.

Christopher picked up the phone mic, "Ladies, we finally arrived back home in the United States. The NYPD have already been informed of our arrival and are here to take all of you back home to your families, and facilities. All of you will receive further physical and mental treatment and support from us after what all of you went through. I can assure all of you, that you're safe now." He nodded before giving the flight attendant the phone mic. He was about to leave out the door till, someone called out to him.

"Thank you for saving us." The blonde-haired girl spoked.

Christopher turned his head around, and smiled. "It was my pleasure." He walked out the door, making a left turn to the exit.

He opened the door, embracing the cold winter weather New York City has to offer. He saw a group of familiar people standing across the landing strip. He smiled at them.

"About time you came back to New York, man! We've been dying here without you!" Said an older man with dark skin, short black hair, and wearing all dark clothing. "Though, from what it looks like, you're the one who's been dying on us, with that beauty mark on your eye there." He smiled.

"Sorry I couldn't get a matching pair, Fin." Christopher said sarcastically as he dragged his suitcase with him as he walked towards to his squad. "But, Zimmerman wanted to make sure I remembered him." Christopher hauled his steps once he was close enough. He stood in front of a tall slim man, standing at 6'ft., with dark brunette hair, blue eyes, pale white skin, wearing a black peacoat over his navy-blue suit, and blue tie, and wearing black dress shoes. Standing next to him was a blonde-haired shoulder length woman, standing at 5'7, blue eyes, pale white skin, wearing an olive-green Burberry coat, black pants, and black heeled boots.

"Mom, Dad. I'm home." Christopher grinned as he was embraced by his step mother.

"I was hoping you to come back without an injury young man. But, I guess that was just too much to ask from you." She chuckled as she kissed her step son's right cheek.

"Well, I expect nothing less from my son. I guess that's what I get for letting him watch too many spy movies when he was kid." His father ruffled his son's hair.

"As much as I love watching a family reunion, what's the update Christopher." An older dark-haired brunette, wearing a black coat, black pants, and black heeled boots spoke.

"Lieutenant Benson," Christopher turned to face her. "Louie Robinson's confession confirmed everything, twenty-seven girls were kept hidden in Carlisle, England, along with twelve men. We have all of them in custody and all the girls have received medical treatment. Once I was given news of their capability to travel, I imminently brought them here. All of them still need to be treated. Each one of them, were tortured severely. From the way I see it, all of them are very much traumatized, but I'm sure all of them are going to be okay after reuniting with their families and with advised counseling. I have also taken all of their statements regarding everything they went through." He pulled out a binder from his bag and handed it to her.

She nodded, "The report you gave us on the whereabouts location of the New York branch, we rescued the remaining thirty-eight girls and have all of their pimps in custody." She placed her hand on Christopher's shoulder. "Good work, detective. Sorry you had to sacrifice your eye for two cases for two countries." She joked.

He shrugged his shoulders. "At least I didn't get shot this time."

Benson and Fin chuckled as they said their farewells and retreated to their cars.

"Child services will take it from here, and take the girls to St. Mary's Healthcare System for Children. So, there's no reason to worry about them." His father spoke taking his son's suitcase. "Time to call it a night and for us to go home. Your brother and sister have been crying for the past three days because you came back late." The three of them started to walk to the car.

"Sorry, I thought they would, so I bought them extra toys to make up for it." Christopher opened the back-car door and sat behind his mother in the driver's seat.

"We better hurry home, your father and the staff are making a big dinner for your homecoming." His step mother started up the engine.

"And it's best we leave now, you know how your mom gets when she's hungry for my cooking." Dominick joked, earning a punch from his wife. "Ow! See what I mean, buddy." He groaned as he rubbed his chest.

"Yep, I'm back home." He chuckled as he leaned back as his step mother started to drive.

It took 52 minutes for them to arrive back home, in their large estate. Christopher was embraced by his two younger half siblings, Jesse and Lucas, once they saw him enter their playroom. He managed to slip away from them, by using their new toys as a distraction for him to escape into his bedroom to unpack.

His father left his large blue suitcase laying on top of his red king-sized bed.

"The only down side when traveling between two countries a few times a year, is packing and unpacking all my clothes." He leaned his head back as he sighed. "I better get started now, dinner should be ready soon. He unzipped his suitcase, and was prepared to take out his clothes, but stopped once he opened the suitcase.

"Huh?" He raised an eyebrow in confusion.

Inside his suitcase, was a medium sized red box. It was tied up in a black ribbon, and had a card with his name on it.

"I don't remember packing that in the suitcase. How the hell did that even fit in there? It was tight when I zipped it and it was because of my suits." He scratched his head.

Christopher was about to reach for it, till he halted his hand.

There was something off about the box.

"This doesn't feel right." He walked over to his black desk, opened the second drawer and pulled out gloves and a black device.

"Maybe..." He placed the tight medical gloves on and approached the box.

He held the device over the box. On screen was an x-ray, showing the contents of what was inside. He widens his eyes at what appeared.

"No, it can't be."

Christopher untied the knot, and once it was released, he opened the lid. He dropped the lid to the ground and picked up what was inside the box.

He held up a small broken puppet doll that look like a mime. It had a creepy grin painted on.

"This is…" He said softly as he took a glance inside the box to see a black card. He picked it up, it said, _'Welcome Back Home Christopher. We should catch up sometime! ^_^'_

A sweat glance cascaded down the side of Christopher's side as he gulped.

"It's him." He breathed in his nostrils and spoke his next words in a whisper, "He's back."

Then there was a knock on his door, breaking him out of his state of shock.

"Just a moment please!" He quickly placed the card and puppet back inside the box. Closed it and hid it underneath his bed.

"Come in!" He stood up fixing himself like nothing happened.

The door opened, revealing his father.

"Were you busy with something, Christopher?" Dominick leaned his left hand against the door frame while his other hand held onto the door knob.

"I-I was just texting…Bloodworth. She was curious what was I doing. That's all, dad." He quickly lied as he held up his phone as 'evidence'.

"I see you still have that crush on her, son." He smirked causing Christopher to blush.

"Father!" He flushed. "She's ten years older than me! And I'm still just a child. Besides, she already has a boyfriend _anyway_."

"You may never know what the world wants, son." Dominick shoved his hands in his pockets. "I came to tell you that dinner's ready and to wash up."

"Alright, I'll be there soon." He nodded as his father left.

Christopher sighed out in relief, then walked to his bathroom to wash up.

"I can't let them know he's back. After what happened _last_ time. I don't want him to worry." He dried off his hands with a towel.

"I'll take care of this myself." He said once he left his bedroom and closed the door.

Unknowingly to him, someone was far outside of the estate, watching him through his bedroom window. The person was wearing black pants, a white-collar shirt with a red bow tie, with black suspenders, had white face paint all over his face, wearing black lipstick and his eyes were outlined black, making his brown eyes stick out. His hair was black and gelled up.

Strangely enough, the person looked exactly like the broken puppet Christopher was given.

"Welcome back home indeed, Christopher Carisi-Blackburn." He spoke in a thick British accent.

The snow started to become heavier as his body disappeared within the snow.

The only thing that remained, was a bloody knife.

* * *

 **And there, that's the end to the story! Or is it?**

 **Left it on a cliffhanger.**

 **So yeah, I had Carisi and Rollins get together and have a family. Why? Cause I'm a Rollisi shipper.**

 **I hoped you guys enjoyed the story! Even though I know there are some problems within the story, that happens. And some of you may think I made Christopher too badass or other words I can't think of right now, and that's okay. We all have our opinions on things.**

 **Again, an alternative universe that I created.**

 **Again, hoped you guys liked the story and please leave reviews of what you think about it!**

 **Some of you may be wondering who is the mysterious person at the end of the story. And only I know who this mystery man is. Here's a hint:**

 **He's Christopher's most important nemesis**


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